


The Things We Do

by tjs_whatnot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Comedy, Crack, Fluff, Friendship, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Leaving Feast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-07
Updated: 2007-08-07
Packaged: 2018-10-27 07:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10804776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjs_whatnot/pseuds/tjs_whatnot
Summary: Snape would rather be anywhere else for this holiday.





	The Things We Do

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This was written after listening to too many hours of SnapeCast and some of their crack theories. That's all I'm going to say!

 “Will you stop being so fidgety, this is going to be fine,” Hermione said, wiping snowflakes off her companion’s lean shoulders. 

“I am not fidgety,” he answered, forcing himself to release the tension that had began in his forehead and had slowly made its way down to his stomach in the last half a block they had walked since Apparating outside of town. “It’s not too late to turn around and go to your parents’ house for the holidays you know.” 

Hermione laughed. “Oh yes, you do so much better at their house. Last time we were there you almost jinxed them for simply offering you a tutorial on proper flossing techniques.” 

“Well, that was quite rude wouldn’t you agree?” 

“Yes, I absolutely would,” she said to placate him. “Besides, I like your teeth just the way they are.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him gently.  

“Yes, your poor eyesight and even worse taste are the first things that attracted me to you.” 

She sighed, he obviously would not be calmed and was gearing up for a fight to get his mind off what was waiting for them on the other side of the door they were speedily approaching. “I thought it was my being an insufferable know-it-all that first sent your eyes my way.” 

Severus winced and she knew it was because he hated to be reminded that they had once been something different than what they were. He hated the fact that she had been his student, but more than that he hated that they had been on the opposite sides.  

It all seemed so long ago to her and she barely remembered that at one time he had hated her and everyone she held dear. War did that to people; war and a memory charm that she had gladly accepted after the war. She couldn’t remember why she had agreed—that obviously was the point—but both Severus and Harry had recommended it, so she had taken it. 

“What about a quiet mini-holiday? Just the two of us, anywhere you say?” he said, trying one more time as Hermione began up the walkway. 

She turned to him, put out her hand, which he grudgingly took and allowed her to gently tug him to the door. 

It was a very long time before they heard the many locks shift at the house they stood at and Severus’ muscles were tensed even farther down his back before the door finally creaked open to reveal his mother. 

“Severus, you made it,” she looked him up and down with sparkling eyes then turned her beady eyes and hook nose towards Hermione. “Ms. Granger, it’s nice to see you again.” 

“Ms. Pince,” Hermione said politely, wondering like she always did, why she had never seen the resemblance between mother and son. She had certainly spent enough time in both their presence, and she had never made the connection. No one had, that was true, but she was cleverer than most, so that was no excuse. She had discovered Lupin’s secret identity when she was thirteen for goodness sake. Then again, Snape had given her clues for that one. 

The door was opened wider and the man of the house joined them, “That’s Mrs. Filch now,” he boomed snaking his arms around Severus’ mother’s ample waist. 

Severus snarled but otherwise refused to acknowledge his displeasure.  

“Come on in son, Ms. Granger,” Argus Filch said. 

Hermione winced, not at what was said, but because Severus had applied so much pressure to the hand he held that she almost cried out in pain. Hermione knew just how very much he hated being called son by anyone, little lone the freaky person beside his mother. It wasn’t that he was creepy, or that he was a retired janitor, it wasn’t even that he was a Squib—although she knew that horrified him—no, it wasn’t any of those things. It was all those things. It was just that he was so, so FILCH. 

“Dinner will be ready in about half an hour; would you care for a drink?” Ms. Pince asked. 

“Got any hemlock?” Severus asked under his breath.  

Hermione nudged him and answered for both of them, “We’ll have whatever you are having.” 

“Do you need any help with anything?” Severus asked hopefully. “Maybe you need me to go to the shop to pick up some last minute things.” Hermione flashed him a you-are-not-leaving-me-alone look that he returned with an every-man-for-himself look of his own. 

“No dear, I’m just going to do up some of these dishes while the potatoes finish boiling,” she called from the kitchen.  

Severus and Hermione went to the kitchen to get their drinks that had been offered and not delivered and saw his mother hunched over a sink of disgustingly dirty dishes. 

“Mother, why are you doing those by hand? Where is your wand?” 

“Sh,” Ms. Pince hissed. “I try not to use magic in front of Argus, it hurts him so. It’s not his fault that he was born a Squib you know.” 

Severus came beside her and got out his wand, “And it’s not your fault that you weren’t,” he spat, using magic to forcefully remove the wet dishes from her hand. 

He was practically shaking with rage and Hermione would have been alarmed with the level that he had risen to so fast if she hadn’t known where it was coming from. She had spent time with him in his Pensieve memories; she knew that his father had abused the both of them when they dared use magic in front of him. She had seen the cowering Ms. Pince and the frightened Severus when his father had raged and destroyed any magically charged thing in the house; including two wands of young Severus’ and his first set of school robes. 

That his mother was once again giving up magic; giving up who she was for a man, made Severus sick. He refused to witness it again and he was strong enough now that he wouldn’t have to. He had the dishes done with a few flicks of his wand while Hermione set the table with a few flicks of hers. 

They sat down to dinner twenty minutes later and it was a peacefully quiet meal, with Severus darting looks from his mother to Hermione. Ms. Pince seemed scared of her child and Hermione wanted to assure her that he only got angry because he cared so much. But if she didn’t know that that was how her son was, Hermione wasn’t going to be the one to inform her. 

“So, how is ol’ Hogwarts?” Filch asked, passing the hot cross buns around the table. 

“Still standing,” Snape said biting fiercely into the bread. 

“We are having a great year,” Hermione said, “my Transfiguration students are coming right along and—” 

“I don’t think the place was ever the same after Dumbledore’s death. Great man Dumbledore. Best Headmaster Hogwarts ever saw.” Filch said. 

Hermione choked on her bun and Severus patted her back as he glared at Filch, “Thanks.” 

Filch turned red and tried to laugh it off, “Present company excluded of course.” 

“Of course,” Severus said. “Who would like some more pumpkin juice?” Mrs. Pince asked loudly. 

*** 

There was another silent course, this time salad, served and digested.  

By the time the soup was served, Hermione could see a vein popping in her lover’s forehead. His mother obviously didn’t. She seemed to think enough awkward silence had conspired.  Turning her attention to Hermione she asked, “So do you see any of your old Hogwarts friends? Weren’t you always accompanied with Harry Potter and—” 

There was a whooshing sound in Hermione’s ear and she felt Severus beside her doing something with his wand under the table. For a second she lost the conversation but recovered quickly. “Yes, Harry and I are still close. He is at Hogwarts as well, Defense Against the Dark Arts.” 

“Of course. I had forgotten that he took that post. Really, what else would he be doing? Auror? I imagine after defeating the Dark Lord, hunting renegade Death Eaters would seem downright boring.” 

“Could we perhaps change the subject?” Severus spat.  Hermione placed her hand on his thigh. It was rock hard with pent up tension and he was shaking with aggravation. 

She felt some of the tension was on her behalf but she wasn’t sure why.  She thought of a way to get him to relax.  Whispering a spell quietly in her soup, she raised her spoon and lightly began to blow. 

Instantly she knew the spell had worked. Instead of cooling her soup, the hot breath was washing over the man beside her and she felt his body quiver as parts of it instantly began to relax, while certain other parts began to stiffen. 

He shot her a shocked look but situated his legs in such a way that the hand that was searching for him, could find him. As Filch and Severus’ mother continued to talk of Severus’ favorite subject, Harry Potter, Hermione was unbuttoning the many, many latches that kept her man concealed and closed off from her. 

She was losing her patience.  

With her free hand she waved her wand under the table and sighed as the wordless spell did its magic and her hand was finally on flesh. Lightly, very lightly she began to swirl her fingertips along his thigh.  

Severus pretending to cough into his soup said under his breath, “Muffliato,” and watched as his mother continued to talk to the oaf at the head of the table.  “What are you doing to me?” he asked into Hermione’s ear. 

“You looked like you needed some help surviving this meal. Let me help you out.” 

He moaned into her ear as she brushed fingers against his erection gently. “You know, you really are the cleverest witch of your age.” 

She stopped what she was doing and gave him a look, “What are you talking about? I am the cleverest witch of any age.” 

“Forgive me darling. Please don’t stop what you are so expertly doing,” he whispered, still giving the appearance of talking to his soup. 

Hermione wanted to devour him, to be filled with him and everything that entailed, but first she knew; they had to survive this dinner. So while they made small talk, and excuses for Severus’ deep breathing, they endured the soup course. 

Ms. Pince marveled at her son’s changed attitude and wondered at the twitch of a smile playing on his lips but said nothing that might jinx the good fortune. 

No, it wouldn’t be her that ruined dinner.  

It was right about the time that Severus, hands grasping the tablecloth in his fists and trying not to cry out, that the smallest tattletale; the scourge of sneaking a feel; the destroyer of good times both student and teacher, pounced. 

“Shit! Shit! Fuckity, fuck!!” Severus shouted standing up and just barely getting his robes back to cover himself, with Mrs. Norris still attached to his leg, right about his knee. “Get this mangy ferret off me before I hex her to this side of the gates of apocalyptic hell!” 

Everyone was on their feet, Hermione trying to hide her own wounds to her hand caused by the evil feline, Severus’ mother moaning and hopping up and down nervously helping no one and Argus Filch trying to get Snape to stand still long enough to get his most prized possession off his angered step son before said stepson threw Mrs. Norris against the wall in his anger. 

Finally Hermione pulled herself together enough to send a stunning spell to Mrs. Norris and healing spells to Severus and herself, before she took his hand and ran for the door.  

Mrs. Pince-Filch still whimpered as Filch cooed mournfully at his pet’s still alive but injured body and Hermione shouted over her shoulder, “Thanks for dinner. Next year, Christmas at our place!” 

They were out of the house and Disapparated to Hogsmeade before Hermione allowed herself to laugh, clutching her sides and doubling over.  

It took Severus a little while to see the humour in it. “Why? Why didn’t you let me kill that little ferret?”  

Hermione barely got out through her painful howls of laughter, “Which one?” 

“Not funny,” Severus said through clinched teeth.  

“It is a little funny,” Hermione said, knowing that he was clinching his teeth not with anger, but so that he wouldn’t give into the mirth the situation required. He hated to laugh. She loved to hear it.  

“You do know how close I came to be mortally wounded, right?” 

She smiled wickedly, “Would you like me to kiss it and make it feel better?”  

Severus, who had not been raised with Muggle mothering phrases such as these, and therefore didn’t get the nurturing tone, smiled his own wicked smile, “Promise?”  

They raced to the Headmaster’s quarters, laughing.  


End file.
